THE LAST FRONTIER 



long grass swale; then perhaps a low, long hill with 

 small single trees and rough, volcanic footing. Ten 

 thousand things kept us interested. Game was 

 everywhere, feeding singly, in groups, in herds, 

 game of all sizes and descriptions. The rounded 

 ears of jackals pointed at us from the grass. Hun- 

 dreds of birds balanced or fluttered about us, birds 

 of all sizes from the big ground hornbill to the lit- 

 tlest hummers and sun birds. Overhead, across 

 the wonderful variegated sky of Africa the broad- 

 winged carrion hunters and birds of prey wheeled. 

 In all our stay on the Isiola we had not seen a single 

 rhino track, so we rode quite care free and happy. 

 Finally, across a glade, not over a hundred and 

 fifty yards away, we saw a solitary bull oryx stand- 

 ing under a bush. B. wanted an oryx. We dis- 

 cussed this one idly. He looked to be a decent oryx, 

 but nothing especial. However, he offered a very 

 good shot; so B., after some hesitation, decided to take 

 it. It proved to be by far the best specimen we 

 shot, the horns measuring thirty-six and three 

 fourths inches! Almost immediately after, two of 

 the rather rare striped hyenas leaped from the grass 

 and departed rapidly over the top of a hill. We 

 opened fire, and F. dropped one of them. By the 

 time these trophies were prepared, the sun had 

 mounted high in the heavens, and it was getting hot. 



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